


By Your Side (Not Me, Her)

by romvnxvas



Series: Reader is from space and as gay and confused as they come [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-14 19:01:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14142501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romvnxvas/pseuds/romvnxvas
Summary: One not-so-bright day, you wake up sweating and bleeding on the Commander's bed. Clarke is there.





	By Your Side (Not Me, Her)

**Author's Note:**

> This one is before the last "drabble". Not really necessary to read it to understand this one, though.

 It's one of the rugged-looking scouts that finds [Y/N], and she comes back bouncing on his shoulders, body limp and dirty with dry mud. Clarke is already at the grounder's camp, pacing restlessly and babbling nervously about Mt. Weather inside the Commander's tent while the Heda herself is looking calm, stretched out at a hammock pretending to listen to the blonde, but she's the first one to get outside the tent when the commotion is heard. Clarke is the first to get to [Y/N], though, Lexa stopping in her tracks once the blonde rushes past her to take he unconscious girl off the man's grip, face full of worry. 

 

 "She was half buried in mud at the Hissing Lake," The scout says, eyes gazing from said girl to his superior, "Probably got attacked. Her stomach is bleeding."

 

 Clarke steps away, carrying the girl. She stops once a sharp voice calls out:

 

 "Where are you taking her?"

 

 The blonde turns to frown at Lexa.

 

 "My mom. She'll know what to do."

 

 The Commander steps in front of the blonde, raising a hand and shaking her head.

 

 "They didn't cared when she was was missing, do you think they are when she's bleeding to death?" Clarke wants to say something back; but she can't think of anything. Not five seconds pass, and Lexa raises both her hands to say something, the rugged scout taking [Y/N]'s body off Clarke's grip and a woman with a lean body following him inside the tent.

 

 Clarke steps to enter, but Lexa is quicker once again and beats her with two long strides and is back inside her own tent, where [Y/N] is already seated at a bare table, black shirt being torn by the man, revealing a big, ragged gash right above her left hip. Clarke flinches at the sight: not because of the gore, but because it was her best friend in that state.

 

 "Calypso is one of our best healers," Lexa says, keeping her distance as to let the woman work, "[Y/N] should be good in a short time. Probably before the battle," Lexa stops, and Clarke thinks that's all the girl has to say, because she's gazing at [Y/N]'s sickly pale body with concentration, bottom lip sucked inside her mouth in a (Clarke still can't believe it) worried expression. 

 

 Except, Lexa hadn't stopped her sentence at all.

 

 "[Y/N] would hate losing the battle".

 

 And with that, she glances one more time at said girl and, in long strides, get off her tent carrying a different staff from last night. Clarke stares at the closed flap cloth, wondering how the fuck Lexa knows that about [Y/N].

 

* * *

 

 

 You wake up from a shrill pain on your side.

 

 Your body jerking into awakening only intensifies the pain, and you groan as your hands, hot and clammy, snap to the pain place. For minutes, you stand still, grunting lightly as you carefully rest back down against the - bed?

 

 Frowning, you look around, the place barely familiar in your pain-blurred mind. The place you're resting against, though, feels soft and warm. It's also wet and sticking to your bare skin, your legs itching mildly beneath the cover of white furs. In that moment, you realize two things: one, you're sweating like a pig, and two, this definitely is a grounder place. Oh, and also: said grounder is sitting on the foot of the bed, their hands holding something that looks like a pot and a cloth. Blinking rapid, your blurry vision comes in focus only for you see not only a simply grounder, but the Commander herself. Staring at you. In a very Edward Cullen way.

 

 "Uh..."

 

 Your noise seems to wake her from her stupor, her eyes falling to the pot and cloth dipping inside it, her hand twisting it gently as the water splashes. She glances up and scouts closer, eyes locking with yours as the wet cloth comes in contact with your hot forehead - you nearly moan at the feeling, closing your eyes. The cloth pads a path down to your sweaty neck, wet fingertips brushing against your cheek and this time you do moan, a faint chuckle getting to your ears.

 

 The coldness goes away, the sound of water splashing following. Grunting, you open your eyes only to find the girl concentrated on the task of cleaning the cloth, lips quirked lightly in a rare smile. You stop to appreciate the view: no paint on her face, thick brown hair free on her slouch shoulders, loose black shirt exposing partially tattooes on her neck and back that distract you for some time.

 

 Until the pain is back, making you grip your side again, grunting and the last thing you see before you squeeze your eyes shut is the concerned face of Lexa and the cloth coming up to your face once again. Groaning, all you can think about is making the pain stop, and you know exactly who can make it go away, opening your mouth and your voice coming out hoarse and broken as you call her out:

 

 "Clarke."

 

 The cloth slaps against your face, making you jerk your body and to cause more pain. Grunting, you open your eyes in indignation only to find Lexa with her eyes widened and pot-free hand raised in the air. She shakes her head quickly, scouting closer to you only to grip the cheek that have been hit by the wet piece.

 

 "I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting you to - to talk, and my first reaction was to just -" the sight of The Commander, Heda, nervously rambling is all too hilarious to you, and you would laugh if it wasn't so tragic. 

 

 She sighs, picking the cloth off your neck where it had fallen. She turns back to the pot and carefully puts the wet piece inside it, pausing for a moment. You see her sucking a deep breath in before raising, walking to a bloodied table.

 

 "Clarke is right here," She turns her head to the right, and you follow her to indeed see the blonde there, sleeping with a frown on the hammock. Lexa chuckles humourlessly, fumbling with the bowl. "She just went to sleep now. Passed the whole day with you, as you were in and out of your mind," She sighs, putting the pot on the floor and resting her hands on the table, still turned back from you. Her head turns lightly. "The _Serpentina_ venom does this. It makes you unconscious for a few days, allucinating. You convulsed one and another time. Clarke was right here by your side the whole time."

 

 Despite the pain, you can feel your chest warming at the fact that your best friend spent all her time right beside you - not that it surprises you, really; the girl had once spent a whole week by your bed when you had a very bad cold and lost her classes because of that. The memory brings a smile to your face. Though it was only four years ago, it seems like a lot more time, in another era, and as if that wasn't you and that wasn't Clarke.

 

 When you open your eyes again Lexa is once more staring at you. You don't make a noise this time. Instead, you stare back, pale green eyes looking inside you, a chill making your body tremble - the subtle movement seems to wake her up from her stupor, and in stiff steps she goes over to your friend and shakes the hammock quickly. Clarke wakes up gasping, frowning confused around - until her eyes fall on you, and even from afar you can see them watering. 

 

 She's quick to stand up and fall into your side, gently hugging you. Sighing, you look over her shoulder only to see the other girl on the far end of the place, hair flowing as she puts the leather coat on. She doesn't look back as she goes outside, red sash flowing back like a flame.


End file.
